


Whispers on the Wind

by Jaiden_S



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Erestor/Irmo, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-22
Updated: 2014-08-22
Packaged: 2018-02-14 07:47:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2183664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaiden_S/pseuds/Jaiden_S
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erestor is happy enough working for Elrond, but an employment opportunity from a complete stranger causes Erestor to question what it is he really wants. Dreams sometimes do come true.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whispers on the Wind

**Author's Note:**

> Title: Whispers on the Wind  
> Author: Jaiden S  
> Beta: Morethmusing  
> Pairing: Erestor/Irmo  
> Request: Rating = R to NC17, Pairing = Erestor/Vala  
> Would like = angst, a bit of kink, with a possessive controlling Vala (author's choice), a deep starry night, and possibly the truth of who his lover really is not initially known by Erestor?  
> Summary – Erestor is happy enough working for Elrond, but an employment opportunity from a complete stranger causes Erestor to question what it is he really wants. Dreams sometimes do come true.  
> Rating: NC-17  
> Warnings: AU, Slash  
> Notes: Written for “My Slashy Valentine – 2009”  
> *Some of the prose has been changed because it was cringeworthy. It's still horribly florid, but there you go.

~*~

_Third Age, 1665_

The tall stranger pulled his cloak down low over his eyes and squinted up at the small cottage on the hillside. It sat dark and forlorn in the twilight, somberly awaiting the dawn.

On the front steps of the modest home crouched a lone Elfling, shivering under a thin blanket in the early morning chill. He rubbed his arms in a vain effort to warm himself. For several minutes, the stranger watched the child from a distance, then proceeded up the rocky walkway to the wooden stairs.

“Why do you sit here in the cold, child? You should be inside by the fire,” asked the stranger.

The Elfling raised red-rimmed eyes to meet the stranger’s gaze. “I like it better out here.” He blinked back fresh tears, and swiped at the ones that escaped with the back of his hand. “Are you here to see my mother?”

“Yes.”

“Can you make her well again?”

The stranger did not answer.

“Please, sir. Make her well.” The Elfling shaded his eyes and peered up at the tall stranger. “Please. If she fades, I will be alone.”

The stranger knelt and pressed his lips to the Elfling’s wind-whipped hair. “You will not be alone. That I promise.”

“Then you can make her better?” The undisguised hope in the Elfling’s voice caused the stranger to pause.

“I can give her peace.” 

The stranger opened the door and stepped inside the humble cottage, bringing with him the first rays of sunlight that pierced the filmy veil of clouds. From the small bedroom beyond came the sounds of rustling sheets. A few moments later, a thin waif of an Elf appeared in the doorway, her nightgown hanging in heavy folds from her gaunt shoulders. Wordlessly, the stranger took her hand and led her back to the bed. 

“It is time to rest.”

~*~

_Imladris – TA 1798_

“I thought he was an Orc,” muttered Glorfindel under his breath. He and Erestor had been patrolling the near borders of Imladris since dawn and had seen nothing of interest save a covey of quail, a stray dog and what he thought was a rogue Orc relieving himself on an elderberry bush. Glorfindel’s decision to shoot the Orc had been an easy one. He had not, however, suspected that the Orc in question was actually the cook’s young buck of a son. Nor had he anticipated that the arrow fired at the lad’s shadowed backside would produce such a swift or violent reaction. The boy’s reflexes were startling. 

“Perhaps it was the angle of the sun that gave his backside a dark Orcish glint,” said Erestor, who had witnessed the regrettable incident in its entirety. He forced a straight face and added, “You are lucky he had his leggings around his ankles. Otherwise, he would have run up the back side of the horse and bitten you.”

Glorfindel shot his friend a withering look. “And you would have been content to watch it all unfold.”

“Of course. I can appreciate a good dose of trouble when I see it.” Erestor could no longer hide his amusement and gave into a hearty laugh. “And you, my friend, attract trouble like sugar attracts flies.”

“Pot. Kettle. Black,” growled Glorfindel in reply. “You’re no stranger to trouble.”

“No, I suppose I am not,” chuckled Erestor, “but I can tell a boy from an Orc.” 

The two rode on in companionable silence as they often did on patrols, and Erestor appreciated the time for reflection. His life in Rivendell was a relatively pleasant one, blessed with good friends, a decent job and a quiet place to lay his head. He gave Glorfindel a sideways glance. Despite his friend’s sometimes overbearing nature, Erestor was thankful for him, too. When he first arrived in Rivendell in search of employment a some years prior, Glorfindel had taken him under his wing, shown him the ropes and given him wise counsel. It was Glorfindel who offered him his first real job as a border patrol. Of course, that was after Erestor had failed the archery skills test…and the swordfighting skills test. Even now, Erestor wondered if the real reason Glorfindel often accompanied him on patrol was to make sure he didn’t fall off of his horse.

All-in-all, things could be much worse. Life was good enough, as comfortable as a warm blanket.

As the riders approached the Last Homely House, a young messenger ran out to greet them, waving at them excitedly until they came within earshot.

“Ah! A visitor has come!” wheezed the messenger. He leaned over to catch his breath, panting and gasping from the excitement. “Lord Elrond requests that you meet him in his study immediately!”

Erestor and Glorfindel exchanged a serious look and the amiable mood evaporated. Travelers came and went with regular frequency, so having new guests arrive in Imladris was not unusual. Ever since the siege of Erigion, Elrond took in all who sought refuge. Announcing a specific visitor via breathless messenger, however, was surprising. Mysterious guests usually meant trouble. Erestor dismounted his horse, handed the reins to the messenger and immediately commenced worrying. 

“I do not like the sound of this,” said Glorfindel once he had dismounted. The pair made their way quickly up the stairs, pushing and dodging their way through the bustle of frantic staff members. They hurried down a long, dark tributary of a corridor that wound and flowed through the heart of the house. Elrond’s study lay at the end of it, hidden behind two massive arched doors, each carved with Elrond’s personal insignia. Much like Elrond himself, the doors were both beautiful and intimidating. 

Erestor swallowed hard. He had entered through those doors exactly twice. Neither time was especially pleasant, as each had to do with a youthful prank and retaliation gone horribly wrong. After the second indiscretion, Erestor toed the line and stayed in Elrond’s good graces.

Glorfindel knocked once on the door, then proceeded to enter without awaiting a response. Erestor, not knowing what else to do, followed quickly behind. The room was a black pit of calm silence, just as cavernous and imposing as he remembered and a marked contrast from the bustle of the rest of the house. He forced down a knot of panic that rose in his throat. 

“We are here as requested,” said Glorfindel as he stood at crisp attention awaiting Elrond’s response. Erestor snapped into place by his side. “I understand we have a guest.”

“At ease.” Elrond rose from his desk in the far corner of the dim room and crossed the wooden floor to stand before them. “We do – or did, rather, and he has made a request of me.”

Erestor stole a quick glance around the room. Empty. His skin tingled in anticipation. “What sort of request?” Frankly, he wasn’t sure he really wanted to know.

Elrond stepped in front of Erestor and placed his hand on his shoulder. “Some months ago, a prominent traveler and his household requested safe harbor within our walls. While a request for refuge is not unusual, the nature and situation of our traveler was unique, and I told no one of his arrival. I heard nothing more from him until last night, when he returned to request an assistant to manage his significant estate that he built just beyond the city gates. He requested a specific assistant. You, Erestor.

Erestor’s eyes widened and he opened his mouth to voice an objection, but Elrond stopped him before he could utter a word. “He insisted upon you as his assistant, and unless you can give me a compelling reason otherwise, I intend grant his request.”

Speechless, Erestor could do little more than nod, a sign that Elrond took as acceptance, adding, “it is a good opportunity for a young Elf like you, Erestor. Be ready to ride out at dawn. His home is a day’s journey to the east.”

Glorfindel’s skepticism got the best of him. “Who is this Elf who makes demands upon the Lord of Rivendell with apparent ease, and why have we not been told of his presence sooner? I am a poor guardian if I am unaware of major construction within the boundaries of my land.”

Elrond folded his hands in front of him and gave them both a hard look. “Great pains were taken to keep the construction a secret. He requested silence. Given his nature, I could not refuse.” The comment hung in the air like a knife dangling from a thread. Few were able to intimidate Lord Elrond into utter compliance. Erestor’s stomach flipped with anxiety. 

Once they were back in the hallway, Glorfindel tore into his friend like a rabid dog. “Why didn’t you say no?! The whole situation is bizarre. A mysterious stranger who builds a home in the twinkling of an eye and then asks for you by name to manage it? It’s dangerous, Erestor, and I cannot believe you would even consider accepting the offer.”

Erestor gave his friend and mentor a half-hearted shrug. “What was I to do? I am not you. I cannot simply refuse Lord Elrond. Besides, how bad can it be? Lord Elrond called it a good opportunity. Everything will be fine.” Erestor forced a tight-lipped smile, but inside his heart was racing like a herd of horses on the plains of Rohan. Perhaps if he kept telling himself that everything would be fine, he would actually believe it.

~*~

Moonlight shone through the branches of the gnarled tree outside Erestor’s bedroom window, casting long fingers of shadows onto the pale ceiling. He lay on top of the bed sheets and watched them glide to and fro like agile dancers moving nimbly to a choreographed routine. Nighttime fascinated him. It always had. While other children cowered under their covers, fearing things that went bump in the night, Erestor embraced the filmy clouds and sparking stars that twinkled on a velvet night sky. Darkness was a welcome friend and sleep, dreamless and peaceful, an easy companion.

But this night, sleep fled from him. For hours he had lain awake, watching the slow crawl of shadows slink along the walls, across the ceiling, ever closer to his bed. As he watched them, his mind replayed the meeting in Elrond’s office over and over again in an endless loop. Who was the mystery guest and what did he want with him? Why was he asked to leave his familiar life for a trip into the wild unknown? He did not know, so he lay on his back and fretted until exhaustion overtook him.

The shadows cast by the moon grew longer, stretching in thin ropes down from the ceiling to touch the top of his headboard. Outside his window, the wind gusted, howling for an instant, then dropping to a hoarse whisper. “Erestor…”

Through a gap between the pane and the sill, a wisp of wind fluttered into the room, delicately licking at Erestor’s bare chest. “Erestor...”

Lower still dipped the shadows until they raked over his chest with ghostly fingers. He watched them with heavy-lidded eyes. In his dreamy state, he imagined he felt their faint touch brush his tingling skin. Again, the cool wind kissed his torso. “Erestor…”

It whispered past his ear like a breathless plea. Erestor’s eyes fluttered closed. The wind swept through the room with an alarming force sending the shutters flying open with a bang, brushing back locks of his dark hair and ruffling the linens that covered his legs. The ephemeral touches turned corporal, gliding down the planes of his torso, along the curves of his hip, over the sinewy lengths of his thigh. He shivered, though not from the chill. Caresses grew bolder, more intimate, more demanding.

When again the wind raked across his trembling body, he gasped so loudly that his eyes popped open with a start. Alarmed, he sat up and clutched at the knotted sheets. The stillness of the warm room shocked him. Nothing was amiss. Not even the curtains stirred.

“It was a dream,” he told himself, though he did not really believe it. He did not dream. He had not dreamed since he was a child, not since his mother recovered from near fading. As his racing heart slowed, he slumped back against the headboard and tried to collect his scattered thoughts. The wind had whispered his name. He felt it on his skin, heard it brush past his ear and responded to it like a youth on the cusp of puberty. Embarrassed, he brushed his damp hair back from his forehead and sighed. Tomorrow he would sort it all out, but tonight he had to get some sleep. 

~*~

Despite Glorfindel’s vigorous objections, Erestor did indeed leave the house of Elrond at dawn the following morning. His ride took him east toward the borders of Imladris, along the precarious ridge of mountains that guarded Rivendell so ably. Though sleep had eluded him the rest of the night, Erestor did not feel as drowsy in the morning as he feared he might, and as the journey progressed, he found himself actually looking forward to seeing his new station. He was not disappointed.

From the top of the craggy mountainside rose a domed roof, atop which was a multicolored flag that whipped in the afternoon breeze. Erestor reined his horse to a full stop and gaped in amazement at the scene before him. The house itself seemed to be built directly into the side of the mountain, composed of the same rock and stone so that it melted into the natural landscape.

“Impossible,” he breathed, unable to tear his eyes away from it. Impossible, yet there it was, a gleaming monument to Elvish skill. His interest piqued, Erestor patted his horse and urged him to a brisk trot. By the time the sun was sinking low in the evening sky, he had reached the narrow trail in front of the entrance.

A tall Elf with hair the color of brushed silver and a robe as white as the clouds above rushed out to greet him warmly. “You must be Master Erestor,” he said with a smile. The front gate swung inward to allow him access to the small courtyard just outside the front door.

Erestor dismounted and gazed upward at the intricately carved stone pillars that supported the granite dome before meeting the Elf’s gaze. “Call me Erestor, please. Master Erestor is far too formal, and I am at your service, sir.” He bowed low in greeting, causing the other Elf to chuckle.

“I think you mistake me for the lord of the manor,” he replied, his musical laughter lilting on the breeze. “He is resting, but asked me to make you welcome in his absence. You may call me Sil…erm…Tindo.” 

Erestor raised one eyebrow at the Elf’s stutter but let it pass without comment. “Very well, Tindo, it is a pleasure to meet you.”

Tindo took Erestor’s bag and floated toward the entrance. “Follow me and I will give you a quick tour of the house.”

Again, Erestor marveled at the exquisite workmanship of the finely detailed carvings on the face of the mountainside. Each stone shingle fit perfectly against the ones adjacent, creating an intricate pattern of texture and tone that melted into a series of mosaic scenes. To the right of the doorway was a mosaic of the silver tree Telperion, formed from glittering stones set into the rock itself, and to the left were glass tiles of vibrant colors forming swirls of flowers and leafy vines that arched upward over the doorway. 

The inside of the home was no less grand, with vaulted ceilings, ornate chandeliers and gleaming marble surfaces throughout. Erestor drank it all in, stopping more than once to admire a life-like sculpture of a noble warrior or gaze at a cut glass bowl. 

The rooms connected to hallways that connected to still more rooms and parlors, each one more opulent than the one before…and more sensual. The colors deepened to wine and emerald. The thick carpets sank like soft grass under his boots. The fabrics that covered deep sofas and heavy chairs were plush and soft as the velvety skin of a peach. Sculptures of sweet lambs and gentle deer disappeared, replaced by buxom young women in outrageous poses and strapping Elves wearing little more than a smile. Tapestries and paintings exploded with riots of vivid color and torrid energy. Erestor tried not to stare.

If the house was magnificent, then the gardens were spectacular, and Erestor gasped in sheer wonder. Somehow, the domed center of the house opened up to the sky, though Erestor could not quite fathom exactly how, given its location on the side of the mountain. In the middle of slate walls grew a lush and fragrant garden, the highlight of which was a single pale tree rising up from the center. Though the sun had only just set, the night blooming jasmine already smelled fragrant. Erestor inhaled deeply and bent to examine a pale blossom. The whirl of frenetic energy found in the house quickly dissipated, melting to calm serenity.

“How is this possible? It’s as if I have stepped into a vision,” he marveled.

Tindo plucked an orange tiger lily from a nearby bush and handed it to him with a smile. “The master created the gardens as a quiet refuge and source of inspiration. All who come here leave refreshed, renewed. Your job is to manage the household and the garden staff during the day while the master rests, and he is confident you are up to the task.”

Erestor’s eyes widened. He had never been entrusted with that sort of responsibility before. “I will do my best to not disappoint him,” Erestor replied with a nervous grin. “The master sleeps, you said?”

“Yes, but he wakes at twilight. Perhaps you will see him before you retire.”

“What is your master like? He seems to have a taste for the exotic.” 

“Exotic and sensual, certainly, but he desires more than just physical pleasure. To him, the physical and the spiritual are intimately connected. He inspires those without visions and gives shape to their innermost desires. He quiets the troubled spirit and gives rest to those who are heavy burdened. He coaxes the spiritual to become manifest and the physical to become enlightened.”

Intrigued, Erestor pressed further. “Then why have I not heard his name before? Surely a visionary Elf with skills as impressive as those you mention would be known far and wide.”

Tindo’s eyes sparkled with unspoken knowledge. “You do not know the name of the breeze that blows against your cheek, yet you feel its power just the same.”

Erestor’s mouth went dry, but Tindo continued to speak. “Your rooms are just over there, adjacent to the Master’s suite. Please make yourself at home. I will call you for dinner in a bit.”

The silver haired Elf floated over the damp grass back to the house, but Erestor lingered in the garden. Tindo’s mention of a breeze against his cheek was more than coincidence. It had to be. Unconsciously, Erestor stroked the soft petals of the lily he held. It trembled in his hand…or was that his hand trembling?

The doorway to which Tindo had gestured was open to the gardens, and Erestor wandered inside. The room itself was surprisingly large and well appointed. A small sitting area complete with a fireplace took up much of the far wall, while the near one facing the garden was composed almost entirely of glass. The focal point of the room, however was the massive canopied bed. Wrought iron trellises spanned between the wooden posts, on which hung curtains of deep burgundy tied back with satin sashes. Plush bedding of linen and silk was too inviting for Erestor to resist, so he heeled off his boots and dove right into the center of the bed.

“Just a quick rest before dinner.” He yawned and lay his head on one of the feather pillows, sighing as he sank into the soft down of the comforter. In moments, he was asleep.

He was weightless. Falling. He dropped for what seemed like forever, finally plunging backward into a warm sea. He floated on the surface of the water, closing his eyes as waves lapped gently at his bare shoulders and thighs. The sensual roll and dip of the waves lulled him into a hazy state of lethargic bliss. Then suddenly he sank like a stone, falling deeper and deeper into blackness, pulled under by an unseen force. He struggled mightily, but his limbs were thick and heavy and he continued to sink. Panic gripped his heart. Deeper still he sank, until strong arms caught him from behind and encircled him. 

"Erestor…" The same voice that whispered to him the night before now called his name again, closer this time, purring in his ear with a sweet resonance that he felt all the way to his toes. His anxiety floated away on the current and he gave in to the other’s embrace. They moved together, he and the one who held him, floating upward through the murky waters toward the light until at last they broke the surface.

“Ah!” Erestor sat bolt upright in the bed and scanned the room in wild confusion. Though he could still feel the heat of the arms that had held him, he could see nothing but darkness. In his eagerness to climb into the bed, he had forgotten to light a lamp. The full moon shone in through the open door, casting the room in a bluish hue and illuminating all but the farthest corners. Again, Erestor looked around, but saw only curious shadows. Something lurked just beyond his vision. He could feel it. On the silver edge between moonlight and shadow, someone waited. He lay back on his bed and stared up at the ceiling. There would be no more sleep this night.

“Erestor.”

“Mmm.”

“Erestor, the sun is rising. It’s time to wake.”

Erestor blinked once, twice then sat up in the bed with a yawn. “What happened?” He must have fallen asleep once more.

Tindo materialized out of thin air and hovered next to the comforter. “You slept all night in your clothes with the door open, and now you have overslept. Hurry and wash up! We have much to do this morning!”

Confused, Erestor swung his legs over the side of the bed and rubbed his eyes. 

“You do not look well. Perhaps sleeping in a strange bed has made you restless.”

“I have not had a good night’s rest in several nights.” Despite his exhaustion, Erestor moved quickly to wash and dress, eager to put the unsettling night behind him.

~*~

In spite of the inauspicious start, Erestor’s first day as estate manager went well. By the time he dressed and arrived in the main living area, Tindo had assembled the household staff in a line to meet him. For such a large home, the staff was quite meager: two cooks, three gardeners, four housekeepers and Tindo, whose job description was still rather vague. After quick introductions and a bit of small talk, the staff scattered to begin their chores. Erestor was visibly relieved.

“You made quite a good impression. Efficient. Timely. Communicating the expectation of excellence without being demanding. Well done,” Tindo remarked.

“Thank you.” Erestor looked a bit lost. Tindo read his mind.

“Why don’t you start with organizing staff schedules?” offered Tindo. “I will tend to the gardens. The trees need to be watered.” He disappeared amidst a flurry of white robes before Erestor could respond.

“How does he do that?” Erestor wondered.

And so followed the first week. Erestor spent long days organizing an already efficient household schedule, coordinating elaborate meals and inspecting spotlessly clean rooms for a stray speck of dust. Busy work, all of it, but he did not complain. The staff was pleasant, the setting even more so, and he found himself smiling more and more with each passing day. Much to his delight, he excelled as an estate manager. Scheduling and bookkeeping came easily, especially given his unique knack for remembering small details. In fact, the only thing that gave him pause was the conspicuous lack of the mysterious master’s presence. Though Tindo assured him the master was there, Erestor never actually saw him.

The days flowed pleasantly one into the next; the nights, however, descended into madness. Sleep hid from him as if it were being stalked by a feral beast, and when it did finally come, it was fitful and restless. Some nights he floated about the starry sky, tethered to a disembodied voice that reeled him backward with a silken thread of whispered seduction. Other nights he fell only to be caught by unseen hands that caressed him intimately. Touches that began as tender and fleeting became bolder, demanding, insistent…irresistible. Not that he wanted to resist. Much to his shame, he awoke each morning in a state of flushed arousal, his nerves frayed to raw ends by his body’s urgent need. It was as if puberty had come a second time. By the end of the second restless week, he was worn ragged, yet he found himself looking forward to nightfall.

~*~

At the end of the third week, Erestor had exhausted all of the household scheduling tasks and began a thorough exploration of the estate. Though the master’s bedroom was off-limits, the rest of the house was his to do with as he chose.

The sitting room was an intimate library of sorts just beyond the main living area. Other than a few stray books that needed re-shelving, Erestor could find little to do. He wandered from around the room, straightening a pillow here or adjusting a figurine there. The housekeepers had shined everything to a gleaming polish, and he feared touching anything lest he leave a smudge. 

A small painting nestled on one of the bookcase shelves caught his eye. Erestor bent low to examine it more closely. It was a market scene, much like the ones on the coast near his home, with rows of brightly colored flowers and ripe vegetables and cheerful shopkeepers shouting above the bustling din of buyers. Erestor smiled. It was one of his most fond childhood memories. 

Carefully, he took it from the shelf and walked with it to a sofa near the window. It fit neatly on his lap when he sat down. The scene could have been plucked directly from his past. Why, even the boy in the painting seemed familiar…

~*~  
_TA 1702_

“Erestor! Erestor, do not dawdle over the apples! We have only a few hours before we need to leave and you have not even glanced at the cumin,” his mother chastised over the din of chaos.

“Yes, Mama,” he called in reply, but not before giving the ripe red apples another longing glance. Apples were a luxury they could not afford, not since Papa had been killed by the orcs some years before. Reluctantly, he left the apple stand and worked his way through the crowd toward the rows of fragrant spices.

The outdoor market teemed with life. Rows and rows of tents, stalls and makeshift stands lined either side of the street, each one more colorful and enticing than the last. Men and Elves, Hobbits and Dwarves alike ventured to the coast to hawk their wares and barter for interesting and needed goods. Erestor and his mother came to the market for dry goods a few times a year. The journey was long and arduous, but a nice profit could be made on essentials such as nuts and spices. Fruits and vegetables were not practical, as they would spoil before they could return home. Sometimes, though, if Erestor was good, his mother would reward him with an apple as a special treat.

This year, for the first time, his mother trusted Erestor enough to manage the purchasing. He discretely felt for the change purse hidden inside his robe, relieved to find it still there. If he found enough bargains, maybe he could buy an apple for himself with the leftover coins.

Erestor stepped around an assortment of red and green peppers and stopped dead in his tracks. An adolescent boy not much older than himself stood in the center of the aisle, dressed in the exotic style of the traveling dancers. Long dark hair, braided and adorned with silver beads, hung in thick ropes down his back. Red pantaloons hung low on his slim hips and a red vest covered his supple torso. The boy stared at him with eyes as dark as polished ebony. Erestor felt embarrassed at his own gawkish body. While he was all knees and elbows, caught in the gangly time between youth and adult, this boy was rounded muscles and tanned skin. For the first time he could remember, Erestor felt a pang of desire. 

The boy smiled. In his hand was an apple which he held out to Erestor. “Would you like a taste?”

Erestor’s eyes flicked between the boy’s coy smile and the ripe apple. Though the question was innocent, the boy’s eyes sparkled with the hint of danger. Erestor hesitated and the boy stepped closer. “Just a taste?” The apple gleamed red and tantalizing.

He could not resist. Erestor leaned forward and sank his teeth into the soft white flesh of the fruit. The sweet juice filled his mouth just as wonderfully as he remembered. “It’s delicious,” he sighed.

“Do you want more?” The boy’s lips curled into an enticingly wicked smile. “Then come and get it.” Without warning, he dashed off toward the large tents that served as the traders’ temporary homes. Erestor chased after him without a second thought.

The boy dipped under rolling fruit stands and dodged between small displays of exotic jewelry, with Erestor right behind. He hadn’t felt this happy in ages! His face hurt from smiling and his feet ached from running along the rutted road, but his heart soared. 

After a long chase, the boy ducked inside a small tent, and Erestor followed suit, assuming it to be another passage to through to the outside, but the boy had stopped running. He stood in the center of the tent and shrugged off the red vest to bare his upper body. Small jeweled studs pierced his navel and both nipples. Erestor could not tear his eyes away from them. “Do they hurt? The piercings, I mean.” 

The boy took Erestor’s hand and placed it on his chest. “No. Touch and see.” Erestor thumbed over the gleaming stud adorning one tight nipple and felt the boy’s chest flinch in response to his curious touch.

Erestor’s heart thundered. The apple was long forgotten. What he wanted now was in his grasp, and he leaned in until he could feel the boy’s warm breath on his lips. The kiss was tentative at first, slow and tantalizing, then deepening into a sweet rush of molten desire. Warm lips crushed together in the first aching wave of yearning. Hands explored warm skin, dipping low to caress under bothersome clothing. Erestor’s head swam and he gasped as the boy’s thigh brushed over a growing bulge in his own leggings.

“Erestor!” 

Erestor’s head jerked around at the sound of his mother’s voice just outside of the tent. The boy smiled and gave Erestor one last kiss. “Do not forget me, Erestor,” he whispered against the Elf’s kiss swollen lips. Before Erestor could utter a word, the boy was gone.

~*~

Erestor blinked. Suddenly, he was back in the present, staring dumbly at the painting on his lap. How long had he been sitting there? The last rays of sunlight that slipped in through the large windows stretched nearly across the room, so it must be late. Erestor rubbed his eyes and gently replaced the painting on the shelf. Time had run away from him. 

The garden pathway that led to his room was just as efficient and twice as lovely as the main corridor, so Erestor stepped out the back doorway onto the hewn stepping stones that dotted the thick carpet of grass. A firefly flitted about just out of his reach, skimming over the rose bushes to dart behind an arched trellis twined with ivy. Erestor followed the playful firefly, curious to see where it would take him.

Ahead, the pathway forked: the right footpath led to his room, the left to a small reflecting pool that looked like glass in the waning light. Next to the pool stood a gardener, clad in a robe of the deepest midnight blue. Erestor could not quite see his face, but felt certain he had seen the Elf before. After all, there were only three gardeners. “Good evening,” he called out.

“And to you,” the Elf said in reply. “Lovely evening for a stroll.” He knelt at the edge of the pool and dipped his fingers in the crystal water.

“Or for a sit.” Erestor sprawled on the edge of a stone bench, leaned back on his hands and watched the ripples from the Elf’s fingertips spread across the surface of the pool. “The gardens are so quiet and peaceful.”

“Loud spaces are vexing to the spirit. Places of solitude are needed to sooth the troubled soul.” The Elf drew a small circle with his fingers that grew larger as the waves took it outward toward the center of the pool. “You are happy here, then?”

Erestor turned to look at the Elf, but his face was hidden in shadows. “Yes, I suppose I am. I have only been here for three weeks, but I think I am happy.”

“What of your life before now?” The Elf cupped his hand and drew up a measure of water.

“It was a good life. I have been blessed,” Erestor confessed, “and for that I am eternally grateful.”

“Blessed in what way?” A trickle of silver water dripped down from the Elf’s palm, splashing gently as it hit the surface of the pool.

“Blessed by a Vala himself. My prayers were answered. Lord Irmo healed my mother of her broken heart when Papa passed into shadow, and returned her to me. I am forever in his debt.”

“It pleases me to meet such a grateful Elf, but what about happiness? Were you happy, Erestor? Did you have all that your heart desires?”

At the mention of the word “desire,” a picture of the boy’s ebony eyes flashed suddenly in Erestor’s mind. If he had ever desired anything, it was that boy. A fierce blush heated his cheeks and he silently thanked the Valar that it was too dark for the other Elf to notice. “Yes,” he lied. “I had all that I needed: friends, a good job, a warm bed. What more is there?”

The gardener rose and gave Erestor a cryptic smile. “There is much more to be had in life than a hot meal and fresh bed linens.” 

Erestor pondered the comment as the Elf walked away. Truly, he was grateful to Lord Elrond for all he had given to him, and he appreciated the lifestyle that his position in Rivendell provided. Perhaps it was not the most glamorous or exciting life, but it was nice and stable. Stability was important, much more important than spending one’s nights flitting about in a dream. After all, dreams faded. Regardless of how many voices whispered his name at night, he would always wake up alone.

“I should be happy with what I have,” he said to himself as he walked back to his room. The thought of eventually returning to Lord Elrond’s service, though, seemed far less appealing now than it had three weeks ago.

~*~

Erestor awoke in a deep porcelain tub of steaming, fragrant water. The room itself was dim, lit by a few candles just out of Erestor’s reach. An assortment of pastel soaps, bottled oils and plush washcloths lined the tiled edges of the tub. Erestor laid his head back onto a thick towel. How he had arrived at this place, he had no recollection, but the water felt nice against his bare skin and he sighed in deep contentment. 

“May I join you?”

Erestor raised his head to see the boy from his past sliding into the tub near his feet. Gone were the soft curves of youth. In their place were tight muscles and hard sinew, a strong jaw line and sharp cheekbones. The boy had become a man. His dark eyes sparkled like jewels in the dim light.

“You have grown,” Erestor said, now convinced he was in another pleasant dream. 

The man chuckled and pushed his long braids over one shoulder. “So have you.”

“We met so long ago. You should be dead. Men’s lives are fleeting.”

“Clearly, I am not dead.” He took one of Erestor’s feet and began kneading it with his strong hands.

“Then you are a dream.”

“Does this feel like a dream?” The man raised Erestor’s foot to his lips and sucked lightly at his big toe. Erestor decided that it felt real. Very real.

“Why here? Why now, after all this time? I searched for you.” It was true. Every year since that fateful kiss, Erestor had searched in vain for the dark eyed boy who had stolen his breath away.

The man dropped Erestor’s foot and slid forward, settling between Erestor’s splayed thighs. “You were a child.”

Erestor groaned. The man’s wet skin glided deliciously over his torso, sending shivers of pleasure up and down his spine. “So were you, but I looked for you…every year…” Unconsciously, Erestor’s hands eased their way down the man’s muscular back.

“I know. And now have you found me,” the man purred into Erestor’s ear. He moved up Erestor’s body as graceful as a cat, licking and nosing Erestor’s earlobe and neck.

Erestor felt woozy. His head swam with the craziness of it all, but the man was having none of it. “I am here with you, Erestor, right now in this moment. Forget about boundaries and limitations of time and space. Love transcends all of that. Put aside your doubts and let me love you.”

Before Erestor had time to think of an argument, the man captured his lips in an urgent, breathless kiss, crushing their warm mouths together in a heated rush. Erestor sighed and the kiss deepened until he felt the hot tendrils of it all the way in his groin. Reason fled hand-in-hand with modesty, and he soon found himself opening to the man’s tender touches. 

Lips hungrily explored fragrant skin. Fingers teased at taut nipples and grazed over rippling sinew. Fevered pleas ghosted past soft earlobes. 

“Yes…love me,” breathed Erestor against the man’s straining neck, closing his eyes in anticipation.

~*~

His eyes snapped open at once. The warm bathwater evaporated as a mirage in the desert, and he lay naked in a heap of tangled sheets back in his own bed. Confused, he sat up, gathered the sheets to cover his overheated body and blinked in disbelief at the morning light that crept in through his window.

After a moment, reality set in. It had been yet another dream. Harsh disappointment stung his eyes and he punched his pillow in frustration. He wanted something – someone – he could not have and it was driving him slowly insane. His body ached deliciously for the man’s touch, craving it so badly that even a dream sent him into a downward spiral of wretched arousal. 

A gentle knock on his bedroom door drew his attention. “What is it?” he snapped with more irritation than he had intended to show.

“You have a visitor,” said Tindo from the other side of the door. “A large blonde Elf named Glorfindel. He insists that he has some urgent business to discuss with you.”

Erestor sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Tell him I will be right out.”

~*~

Glorfindel paced to and fro in the small study like a caged tiger. Three weeks had passed with no news from Erestor, and Glorfindel imagined the worst, especially when his letters had been returned unopened. His friend needed to be rescued. After leaving a note for Lord Elrond, he saddled his horse and rode hard for the eastern border.

Though he did find the manor to be impressive, he did not trust the secrecy that surrounded the Elf who built it. Tindo seemed guarded. The staff refused to answer his questions. With every passing minute, Glorfindel became more determined that he would not leave without Erestor.

When at last Erestor appeared in the doorway, looking somewhat flustered and disheveled, Glorfindel grabbed him by the shoulders and said, “Thank Eru! Go and pack your belongings. We’re leaving here immediately. If we ride hard, we can be back home by nightfall.”

“This is my assignment and I mean to honor my commitment.”

Glorfindel gave his friend an understanding smile, but had no intention of taking no for an answer. “I know it is difficult to leave a position to which you are committed, but there is no other choice. Hurry and pack, we have a long ride ahead.”

Erestor pushed Glorfindel away from him and frowned, clearly torn. “Leave? Glorfindel, I cannot simply leave.”

Undaunted, Glorfindel took a step forward, only to have Erestor take another step backward. “You haven’t written. No messages arrived. Something is wrong. I know it.”

For a moment, Erestor stared at the floor before daring to meet Glorfindel’s questioning gaze. “Nothing is wrong, but…It’s hard to explain,” he began slowly. “The estate is magnificent, the gardens spectacular, and I enjoy my work, but it is more than that. Ever since I arrived, I’ve been having these dreams. Dreams of secret fantasies and long hidden desires tucked away in the deep recesses of my heart, and as strange as it sounds, I do not want them to end. I have never experienced anything so intense, so consuming.”

Glorfindel’s eyes flashed with anger. “The Elf you serve must be some sort of wizard! Can you not see that you are under his spell?! You are bewitched!”

Erestor’s brows knit together in confusion and Glorfindel seized the opportunity to argue his point. “Do you not see what he is doing? He is weaving his spell of lies and seduction. He is the spider to your fly, and once you are completely entrapped, he will devour you.”

“Devour me?” The thought of being devoured sent an involuntary thrill racing down his spine. Erestor closed his eyes in shame. There was nothing he wanted more than to slip into his dream once more and be utterly and completely devoured.

Glorfindel grabbed Erestor’s wrist and shook him. Hard. “You are feverish, exhausted and ready to collapse. Leave this foolishness and come home. Come back to your old life.”

Erestor’s brow wrinkled as his anxiety increased. Maybe Glorfindel was right. Maybe all of this was a fantasy that could never come true. Perhaps it was time to stop dreaming and accept the ordinary comforts of his former existence. His thoughts drifted back to the frustration he had felt that morning. He had been so close to fulfilling a desire he had not even known he had that his heart ached with disappointment. Even if he stayed, would his dream ever become reality or would it continue to be a feverish glimpse of a veiled image that he could never truly have?

“I will go with you, but I must first tell the master of the house that I am leaving. I owe him that much.” Erestor turned on his heels before Glorfindel could stop him and crept to the door of the master’s bedchambers.

The black lacquered door silently eased open and Erestor took a tentative step inside the darkened room. It was smaller than he imagined it would be, with an intimate seating area next to a fireplace and a plush canopied bed, much like his own. He thought he saw a figure hidden behind the gauzy bed curtains but he couldn’t be certain. Carefully, he took a lit taper from the fireplace mantle and approached the bed.

“Master,” he said softly. “Master, please wake. I need to talk with you.”

With a trembling hand, he drew back the curtain. The silhouette of a robed body lay atop the blankets, shrouded in flickering shadows thrown off by the dancing flame. The silhouette moved, rolling toward Erestor, turning over, sitting up, casting off the shadowed mystery.

Erestor gasped and tumbled backward onto the wooden floor, dropping the candle beside him. It flared brightly, and in that brief moment before it went out, the master’s face was illuminated. Eyes like polished onyx stared back at him. 

When Erestor met his gaze, he knew him. The same eyes as those in his dream, dark as the depths of midnight itself, stared back at him, cutting him to the core like twin obsidian blades. His heart was laid bare, his soul sliced open. All that was once hidden was now revealed. The master of the estate was Lord Irmo himself. Erestor’s world lurched violently. Everything turned upside down, inside out. He dug his fingernails into the floorboard behind him as he tried to find his bearings. 

“I did not know,” whispered Erestor as he lay on the floor paralyzed with fright. 

Irmo’s silence spoke volumes. In the waning light, he grew larger still, looming over Erestor like a bronzed god, but Erestor could not move. 

The ceiling above Irmo’s head began to crack and fall to the floor, revealing swaths of stormy skies above them. Beneath Erestor’s feet, the ground shook as if the house were breaking loose from the mountain itself. Immediately, Glorfindel appeared in the doorway, completely oblivious to Irmo’s presence.

“ERESTOR! We have to leave!!” He raced to where Erestor lay, grabbed his elbow and drug him out as the walls crashed down around them. Erestor could not move, paralyzed with fear and uncertainty, unsure of what to do. Between the wrath of a determined warrior and the chaos of the windstorm that threatened to sweep them away, Erestor was powerless. Without saying a word, he allowed his friend to carry him out into the raging storm.

Irmo stood silently while the violent windstorm whipped and wailed, tearing at the walls of the estate until it began to crumble to ruins at his feet. The illusion was shattered.

~*~

“You must do something! He’s fading away right before our very eyes!”

“There is nothing I can do, Glorfindel. It is his choice. I can heal the body but I cannot heal the spirit. Only a Vala can accomplish that feat,” Elrond said in reply.

Erestor listened to them argue outside of his door for a few more minutes, then rolled over in his bed to face the wall. He didn’t actually want to fade. He wanted to go back to Lord Irmo. It had been seven agonizing days and seven dreadful nights since he had returned and he wanted to be anywhere but here, anywhere but back in his ordinary, comfortable-old-shoe of a life. With a miserable groan, he buried his face in his pillow. This was what he deserved, though. He had brought it all on himself.

The revelation of Lord Irmo’s identity had rocked him to his core, and he rode the day’s journey back to Rivendell in a daze. By the time he reached the main gates of the house, he knew he had made a terrible mistake.

“Please,” he prayed with the fervor of a penitent believer. “Please, give me a chance to make things right. If I had known…I should have known! I am such a fool.” The hints had been there all along: Silmo, whose feeble attempt to hide his identity should have been obvious; the mosaic of Telperion on the front of the mansion; the peaceful gardens surrounding a tree of light. How could he have been so blind? He was inconsolable. 

As always, his entreaties were met with cold silence. Punishment for his sins, he surmised.  
Sleep was once again dreamless and fitful, despite his determined efforts to find Irmo in the misty dreamworld. Alas, he could not stay asleep long enough to dream and spent most nights reliving his mistakes.

As he lay in bed wallowing in guilt, idea hit Erestor like a bolt of lightning on a clear sunny day. “That’s it!”

For the first time in a week, he rose from his bed, washed himself and began to dress.

~*~

The other guards in his regiment greeted Erestor warmly when he showed up dressed and ready for work in the field house later that day. Glorfindel was overcome with relief and wrapped him in a bear hug, nearly squeezing the breath out of him.

“I was worried about you. We all were,” Glorfindel said after he at last set Erestor back on his feet. “I thought…well, I thought the worst.”

Erestor met his friend’s smile with a look of calm confidence. “I am fine. Or, at least, I will be fine.” 

Satisfied, Glorfindel patted Erestor’s shoulder. He certainly seemed fine. His color had returned, his hair was combed and braided, his riding uniform neatly pressed. Even his boots were shined. “Excellent. I will add you to the schedule next week. Today, I need for you to help around the house.”

For the remainder of the day, Erestor busied himself with familiar paperwork and supplies, stopping occasionally to assist other guards with locating riding tack or re-stringing a bow. Time seemed to fly, and before Erestor knew it, the day was over.

The evening meal passed in a blur of banal conversation and nondescript chicken, neither of which was particularly satisfying. If anything, the mundane meal strengthened his resolve to push forward with his plan. He knew what needed to be done.

After dinner, he found Lord Elrond just as he was opening the massive wooden doors to his study.

“Lord Elrond, a word?” Erestor framed his words in a question, but the tone he used was quite matter-of-fact. 

Elrond gestured for him to follow to his study. The fire in the hearth crackled warmly, and Elrond chose a seat next to the glowing fireplace. Erector chose to stand.

“You look well,” offered Elrond.

“I am not as well as I appear. Though I spent the last week in bed, I have not slept more than a few hours a night. I am exhausted.”

Elrond narrowed his eyes and coolly scrutinized the Elf standing before him. He knew exactly what Erestor wanted. “I do not normally hand out sleeping draughts.”

“Would you prefer to see me fade?” Erestor met Elrond’s cool gaze with an icy glare of his own. It was no empty threat he was making. 

The pair locked eyes for a strained minute before Elrond sighed and looked away. “If I refused your request, you would find another source for the sleeping tonic.”

“Yes, I would.”

“Then take the green bottle on the desk, but use the contents sparingly. One thimble full in a glass of water is all you need. Any more could be unsafe.”

Erestor crossed the room, took the small bottle from the desk and was nearly to the door before Elrond stopped him.

“It is a dangerous game you play, pursuing a Vala,” Elrond said quietly. 

Turning, Erestor replied, “I would rather risk everything for one last glorious vision than settle for a lifetime of the ordinary.”

As the door closed behind Erestor, Elrond pondered his words. The Erestor he knew only a few short weeks ago would have never held such powerful convictions, much less dared to march into his private study state them aloud. Elrond smiled. “Good luck, Erestor.”

~*~

The moon shone softly into the darkened bedroom. Erestor stood next to his bed, clad in his pale night gown and clutching the little green bottle. Now that the time had come, he felt a wave of fear roll over him like the churning surf at the shore. 

This was it. If Lord Irmo would not come to him, then he would go to Lord Irmo, consequences be damned. With trembling hands, he unscrewed the cap, turned the bottle up and drank down the entire contents of the bottle in one gulp.

At first he felt nothing, save the cool tile under his bare feet. After a moment, though, the room began to spin lazily, tilting to one side then to the other, finally fading to black.

~*~

Erestor awoke on a bed of grass underneath a blanket of twinkling stars. Encouraged, he sat up, smoothed his wrinkled nightgown and scanned the horizon. Just at the edge of the tree line, he noticed a familiar set of gleaming silver gates. His heart leapt in his chest. It had worked! Those were Lord Irmo’s gardens!

The grass crunched under his feet as he ran, sending a spray of green particles into the air behind him. Faster he flew, clutching at the hem of his gown to keep it from tangling around his legs. The cool night air whistled past his hears and whipped his hair back into a dark tangle. 

He flung himself against the smooth silver bars and gave them a hard tug. Slowly they swung outward, creaking softly in the still silence. And silent it was. The gardens were as quiet as a tomb. No crickets chirped, no nightingales sang, no fireflies buzzed or danced on evening breeze. Everything remained still, holding a collective breath in nervous anticipation, thus amplifying every sound Erestor made as he walked. His heartbeat thundered in his ears. He was here…now what?

Gingerly, he picked his way along the narrow, tree-lined pathway that led to the center of the gardens, careful to make as little noise as possible. After a few turns, the pathway opened up to low beds of bright flowers surrounding a clear reflecting pool. The surface of the water was smooth as glass, reflecting the silvery moonlight like a mirror. Erestor stood on the edge of the grass and peered over into the pool. His own disheveled reflection was all he saw.

During his mother’s slow recovery, she often told him tales of Lord Irmo. “He comes enrobed in twilight, on the wings of hope and inspiration. Seek him not in scenes of strife or conflict, but in times of peaceful reflection, in the harmonious melting of waking and dreaming.” 

Erestor relaxed his hands at his sides, closed his eyes and tried to still his racing mind. How different things seemed now. Hindsight, of course, was clear when at the time he could only see through a veiled glass. He exhaled slowly and waited.

_Erestor…_

The whisper was so faint at first that Erestor feared he had conjured it from wishful thinking. He held his breath, afraid he would miss it if the sound came again. It did indeed come, and louder this time.

_Erestor…_

Fingers cupped his chin, tilting his head to the side. Soft lips brushed over his own, gently teasing him with warm kisses. The kiss deepened and he was lost to it, melting into the strong arms that held him. The heat of Irmo’s bare skin radiated through his thin dressing gown, and he pressed himself closer. 

When at last the kiss broke, Erestor panted with breathless excitement. “I searched for you,” he said, twining his fingers through Irmo’s long braids.

Irmo silenced him with another kiss. “I never left you. I have always been by your side, watching, waiting for your heart to turn to me.”

Hurt, Erestor cupped Irmo’s bronzed cheek. “Then why did you not respond to me when I called out your name!? I lay in my bed and cried out to you for a week!”

“When you became upset, your mind closed itself to the spiritual. My whispers could not be heard over your internal ranting. Your subconscious was not open to my influence.”

“I thought you were angry. I left with Glorfindel, and that angered you.”

“I was jealous, not angry. You accepted his demands without question. It hurt that you let him drag you away from me.”

Erestor chewed thoughtfully on his thumbnail for a moment before replying. “The time I spent in your service was both wonderful, and frustrating. Glorfindel’s sudden appearance stirred my already turbulent emotions. I did not know what to do, nor did I know what it was I truly wanted until I realized could no longer have it.”

Irmo pressed a soft kiss to Erestor’s forehead. “You have always had me.”

As Erestor stared up into Irmo’s dark eyes, a sudden realization hit him like a shock of cold water. 

Always, there had been the dark eyes. Every lover since the boy at the market had possessed the same soulful, midnight eyes that were uncommon to both Elves and men. The bashful stable hand in Lorien. The impudent card player from Bree. The travelling merchant from the south shore. Erestor was dumbfounded.

“You. It’s always been you, hasn’t it? But why?” Erestor’s eyes widened in shock.

Irmo began working at the buttons of Erestor’s dressing gown, unfastening each one with the casual determination of one who had done it before. “I have always loved you. From the day I first saw you, I knew you were special and I could not bear the thought of any other hands touching you, so I took the shape of your heart’s desire.”

It was true. Irmo had indeed become the very embodiment of Erestor’s desire, but was it genuine longing or the mystical enchantment of a Vala’s spell? Erestor peered up into Irmo’s dark eyes and wondered aloud, “Glorfindel accused me of being under your spell, and I must confess I am bewitched.”

Irmo dipped his head to kiss the hollow at the base of Erestor’s throat. “As am I.” 

Erestor shivered, suddenly aware that his gown was a puddle of white cotton around his ankles and that Irmo’s silk loincloth was about to join it. Desire flared in Irmo’s eyes like a dark flame. True to form, Erestor’s body reacted with the virile eagerness of a besotted youth. “You still wear the piercings,” he said as he placed his hand in the center of Irmo’s broad chest. He slid his fingers over the smooth skin until he reached the golden hoop that adorned one taut nipple. Just as it had so many years ago, it fascinated him as a visual twining of pleasure and pain. He dipped his head and laved warm kisses to the sensitive nub, flicking the small hoop with the tip of his tongue.

“In this form, yes,” replied Irmo while threading his fingers through Erestor’s dark hair. “Your attraction to them as a youth hinted at a more willful side of your personality. I vowed to coax that part to the forefront.”

Erestor needed no coaxing. He bit playfully, raking his teeth over the pink flesh until it flinched against his tongue. His boldness surprised even him. Much to Erestor’s delight, Irmo let out a hiss of unexpected pleasure. Suddenly, Erestor could think of nothing else but driving Irmo mad with lust, much like the Vala had done to him every night he stayed at the mansion.

But before Erestor could take another lick, Irmo tightened his grip in his hair and pulled Erestor’s head up with a sharp yank. “I want you. Now,” he growled into Erestor’s pointed ear. The tone of Irmo’s voice made him tremble. The feel of warm lips on his earlobe made his cheeks flush. The sudden, firm stroke to his hardening arousal made his knees buckle. 

Irmo caught Erestor when he sagged against him, and lowered the Elf gently to the cool grass. Erestor lay back and gazed up at his lover with half-shuttered eyes, his legs spread wantonly in open invitation. Unlike previous romantic encounters, Erestor felt no embarrassment or shyness about his unguarded exposure. In fact, the rabid hunger that shone in Irmo’s eyes sent a thrill of power racing through Erestor’s body. It was enticing to know how badly his lover wanted him. A small smile played at the corners of Erestor’s lips, and he ran a lazy hand down his abdomen. Powerful, indeed.

In a heartbeat, Irmo was on him, settling between his thighs in one silky, fluid motion. Tender kisses deepened, their tongues swirling together in warm, honeyed desire. Smooth muscles rippled under curious fingers, palms grazed past sharp hipbones and curved shoulders. A single roll of Irmo’s hips caused such delicious friction that Erestor very nearly forgot his own name. Another, and he bucked upward in a silent, yearning plea.

Erestor had wanted this for so long, but each sparking twilight dream had shattered like glass at dawn. The bitter frustration he had felt each morning seemed like a distant memory, and now, as he lay on the grass, poised on the brink of it all, he held his breath in eager, writhing anticipation.

He welcomed the familiar pain with a gasp, knowing that sweetness followed as surely as night followed day. And follow it did, rolling through him in waves of pleasure that ebbed and flowed with each gentle rock of their bodies. They had coupled before, in other times, in other places, but never with the urgent intensity of this moment. 

Just as their bodies joined, so did their spirits. It was as if a needle of consciousness pierced Erestor’s heart with a crimson thread and bound him fast to his lover. Each loving caress and soulful gaze pulled the thread tighter still until he knew not where he ended and the other began.

In the end, they lay entwined on the soft grass, snuggled in a dreamy state of blissful satisfaction. Irmo pulled Erestor closer, wrapping him a loose embrace. “You are mine now,” he said with a grin.

Erestor lifted his chin in mock defiance. “On the contrary. You are mine. You said so yourself.”

Irmo chuckled. “Perhaps we belong to each other, then.”

“I think we do.” Erestor yawned and tried to stay awake, but it was useless. In moments, he was fast asleep in Irmo’s arms.

~*~

The warmth of the sunlight streaming in from the bedroom window gently roused Erestor from his sleep. For a moment, he wondered where he was and looked around in disoriented confusion. The familiar surroundings of his Rivendell bedroom told him that he was home. 

Home.

A wave of crushing disappointment hit him like the surf crashing upon the shore. Why?! Why after everything – especially after their lovemaking the previous night – why was he in his own bed, alone?

He angrily threw back the covers and sat up, only to be stopped by a sharp prick of pain. Alarmed, he glanced down at his chest.

There dangling innocently from his left nipple hung a small golden hoop, exactly like the ones that adorned Irmo’s chest. He carefully fingered it, gasping as another jolt of delicious pain shot through his chest, and grinned. Joy sprang anew and flooded him with the warm waters of relief. _We belong to each other._

“I will see you tonight,” he whispered.


End file.
